Confessions of a Squib
by IfYouStopAndThink
Summary: Leonora Jacobson has finally given up on any dream she ever had of experiencing magic. Her wizard brother, Neville Longbottom, suddenly shows up out of the blue and whisks her off on an adventure she only wished she could ever have.
1. Someone Finally Comes For Leonora

Leonora Jacobson shuffled out to her mailbox, blinking at the bright morning sun.

_Never did like mailboxes,_ she noted. _They are so innefficient. _

She didn't look like much, didn't deserve a second glance. Hardly twenty-three, she was around five foot four, if even that. Her shiny brown curls that almost reached her shoulders were perpetually a mess and her soft brown eyes echoed back any pain or loss she'd endured during her life. She was not delicate-looking, but sturdy and kind of clumsy.

Not much mail. A fee from the library. _Whoops, I must remember to take that book back. _A letter from Elizabeth Jacobson, her foster mother. A few catalogs, which she immediately dumped in the trashcan. No emerald-green ink on that strange parchment.

_A six year old Leonora escapes her bedroom and tip-toes into the foyer, where she can hear her brother, who is eight, talking to her Gran._

_"...always known that she... it's obvious."_

_"I thought we were pureblood!"_

_"These things happen... your parents..."_

_"...but we can't just..."_

_"It's the only humane thing to do!..."_

_"Do you hear that?"_

_Leonora's heart pounds, she has sneezed with awful timing and gotten herself in trouble._

_"Leo!" her brother says, coming around the corner. "What are you doing up?"_

_"Nebel!" she cried, trying to look cute. Her speech impediment only improved on this frontier. _

THE NEXT DAY _Leonora went with Gran and her brother to a new house, without flying brooms or moving pictures. The people who lived there were Elizabeth and Louis Jacobson._

_When it was time to go, little Leonora ran to her brother, who picked her up, sniffled a little, and said, "Be good Leo."_

_She looked confusedly at her Gran, but with the blink of an eye, she was put back down and Gran and her brother were gone._

Leonora sat on her bed and sifted through the mail. The letter from her mother was brief: Louis had the flu, the geraniums were coming up nicely, etc. Sighing, for she had expected something more, Leo pulled on a sweater and some jeans.

CRASH! Something was in the kitchen.

Leo ran to the kitchen, to find a man clumsily trying to pick up shards of broken china.

"Who are you?" she asked, wide-eyed.

He quickly stood up, bonking his head on a cabinet in the cramped kitchen. "Neville," he answered her.

She blinked.

"Longbottom," he added. "Your brother."

"Brother?" she asked incredulously. "Oh my gosh. Neville! You're--you're here! You came for me!"

"I did." He nodded, but looked grim. "We need you, Leo. You have to come with me."

"Who needs me? For what?"

"You'll see," replied Neville. He took her hand and closed his eyes.

Suddenly Leonora was off, on the kind of adventure she only wished she could ever have.


	2. Incompetent? I think not!

Leonora was suddenly lost in a whir of colour, confusion, and several rather annoying babboons. She could feel Neville's hand on hers, tugging as if they were being pulled apart.

All of a sudden she was on _Grimmauld Place_, and Neville was grinning in his lopsided way, his ears sticking out all wrong.

"I guess side-along apparation doesn't work quite as well when there's a squib along for the ride!" he laughed. "Oh well, we're here, aren't we? Can you see this?"

Squinting her eyes, Leonora was able to make out a house in front of her, but just barely. _Number 12 Grimmauld Place._ It was almost transparent, as if it were there, but not quite as real as numbers 10 and 14. She nodded to Neville, anxiously waiting.

"Good, then." He looked releived. "I wasn't sure if you would be able to see it."

"Why?"

"If you aren't a wizard or witch, there are certain things you can't see: Hogwarts, Diagon Alley, and Number 12 Grimmauld Place. But you are a Squib, so perhaps you're different?"

"What's a Squib?" She wasn't sure she liked how this sounded.

He looked uncomfortable. "A person born to a wizarding family, but who can't do magic."

"Oh." She looked down at her feet and tried not to be dissapointed. She'd hoped it would be something special. _No, wait. I've given up on this, remember? I'm not magic, never will be. No reason to get my hopes up now._

"Let's go, then," he said, dragging her up the steps by her wrist. The house shimmered in front of her, flickering in and out of reality. She hoped it wouldn't dissapear when Neville tried to get her in. She closed her eyes and waited to be taken in.

"No, this won't do," Neville said impatiently. She timidly opened her eyes. He was so much more of a stranger than she pretended when she imagined him coming back to get her and take her to Hogwarts. "You can't close your eyes! You have to beleive it's there, really hard! Or else it will dissapear, and I'll go in but you won't!"

She kept her eyes open this time, and then she was in the front hall. It was old and cobwebby, obviously quite intimidating once, but now less of a centaur and more of a flobberworm in its majesty.

Neville took her into a living room, where five other people waited. One was a woman, her age, she guessed, with bright orange hair, but she smiled nicely enough. Likewise, a man sitting across the room had the same hair, same freckles, and a woman next to him, bushy dark hair and a hand firmly attached to the redhead man's. Another woman sat reading a book, silvery-blond hair and wide blue eyes kindly meeting Leonora's as she felt her eyes on her, and by himself, a bit removed from everyone, was a young man with dark messy hair and a faded scar on his forehead. Although she was a "squib," she knew who this was. _Harry Potter._

"Everyone," Neville started, getting the full attention of everyone as Leonora observed them, "this is my sister, Leonora. Leonora, this is Luna"--the blond woman smiled genuinely--"Hermione"--the brunette nodded politely, never losing eye contact--"Ron"--the redheaded boy let out a grin that spanned his whole face, his ears and cheeks growing red--"Ginny"--the redheaded girl gave a smile that quite resembled Ron's--"and Harry, of course." Harry looked up, not smiling but looking friendly enough. Silence followed.

"So, er, you could see this place?" asked Ron awkwardly.

"Yeah..." Leonora kept her gaze locked on the floor. "...uh, yeah."

"Oh. Cool."

Talk about an awkward silence.

That night, she was to sleep in a bedroom between Ginny and Harry's room and Neville's. She couldn't sleep, being in a house that kept shimmering in and out of reality. Finally she put on some slippers and went downstairs to get a cup of water, where she bumped into Harry. He was sitting at the table, head in his hands, mumbling to himself. If she were to be honest, Leo thought he seemed a bit mentally unstable.

"Um...uh..." She wanted to say something, but ended up stuttering like a moron.

"Oh." Harry looked up. "Hi."

"Just, uh, getting, er, water," she stuttered. "You know. To drink.'

"Yeah." He tried to smile.

"Something wrong?" she asked.

"Ginny's pregnant," he whispered.

"Oh!" her eyes went wide. "And, uh, you're not married?"

"No," he moaned. "Her parents are going to kill me!"

"Oh, um, well, sorry 'bout that," she said quietly. "I'm not, you know, much of an expert on any of this..."

"It's okay," Harry said gruffly, standing up. "You're just a squib. You don't know what's what, and I don't know what Neville was thinking to bring you here."

He tromped up the stairs noisily, leaving Leonora feeling something between pity and anger directed toward this "chosen one." It sounded like she was incompetent because she was a Squib and she resented that. Of course she was smart; she majored in pysics! She had taken so many math classes, her brain hurt! She could explain quarks and bosons and neutrinos and plasma and stuff that Harry'd never even heard of. Steaming mad, she gulped down some water and went back to bed, where she dreamed of going back to a normal life.


	3. The Secret Agent and his Great Arse

The strange man coughed as he stepped out of the fireplace into the living room. Average height, average weight, average curly brown hair and hazel eyes--yes, he looked the part of Mr. Joe Average. Ironically, this was ideal for his job: Agent Matthew McIntosh, undercover agent for the newly founded Order of the Pheonix.

As any good agent would do, he surveyed the room (even if it was headquarters). Harry Potter. Figured. Ron Weasly and sister Ginny, children of Arthur Weasly, siblings to Percival Weasly. Hermione Granger, the most brilliant witch of the time. Neville Longbottom--everyone knew (and feared) his grandmother. Luna Lovegood; somewhat crazy but had been part of the group too long to be left out. And who was this wide-eyed stranger off by herself?

"Hey, Matt," greeted Neville, smiling and stepping forward. McIntosh dusted himself off. He didn't like being called Matt. Sounded pretty informal to him, and formal was his middle name--which he never revealed to anyone, of course. Names could be valuable information to the enemy.

"Neville," McIntosh acknowledged. "Luna, Hermione, Harry, Ginevra, Ronald," he added, nodding with each name. "And who might this stranger be?"

Leonora turned her head briefly. She was still too tired to take in all the new people and new ideas.

"Leonora," Neville said proudly. "My sister."

"Hello, Ms. Longbottom," McIntosh said. "Pleased to meet you."

Leonora smiled a smile that flashed across her face faster this stranger could make the tension in the room dissolve--which was, incidentally, quite fast. "Hello," she said softly. Goodness, was he ever handsome. She couldn't help it. She was a girl, and thanks to pre-menstrual syndrome, she was hormonal as a baboon flashing her big red bottom. Another smile creeped across her face, goofy but well-meaning. It stayed there.

McIntosh smiled back, a bit unsure. This girl seemed mentally unstable. Although, he had to say, she was rather pretty, in a way. He always liked girls with curly hair. What was he thinking? He never liked girls! Well, okay, he liked them. But he never acted on his feelings. Inter-personal relationships got messy when one was constantly undercover. He didn't have time for the female sex, family, or recreation. His life was strictly work.

"Anyway," Neville continued, blissfully unaware of his sister's thoughts (and McIntosh's, for that matter), "Matt, I asked you to come today so you could help introduce my sister to a few things. She's... well, let's say she's an honorary member, but she's pretty clueless."

"Clueless?" McIntosh asked, a bit curious.

"She's a squib," Neville admitted.

"Oh." McIntosh's mind was suddenly racing. This wasn't right! She shouldn't be involved! However much he was opposed, this opposition to her involvement didn't show on his face. He had worked very hard on an adequate poker face for his missions, and it showed (the hard work, not his feelings).

"Anyway. We need you to show her a few things. After all, you can explain it better. We've got a bit of work to do..."

McIntosh knew that complaining to his boss was not a good idea. He was supposed to just do what he was told. Neville wanted him to jump? How high? It was that sort of attitude that made a good secret agent. But he so wanted to argue. She was not even magical, for crying out loud!

Still, he restrained himself. "Come on, Leonora," he said a bit too gruffly, motioning for her to follow him upstairs.

Leonora was giddy. He had a really nice arse, tight as he led her up the stairs with a business-like manner.

"So," she said, "are you in the... erm... Order?" Was that what it was called? The Order?

He appeared to dismiss this attempt at polite conversation. "Ms. Longbottom, we have work to get to. Please don't waste time with trivial matters."

Leonora didn't see how his involvement in the Order was trivial. After all, he seemed to take it pretty seriously himself.

"The Order of the Pheonix," he began, opening a door for her, motioning for her to step inside, and following, closing the door behind him, "was started a long time ago, before we were even born. Our Parents and Grandparents, even Great-Grandparents, were in it, and it was strong."

Leonora so wanted to ask a question but knew she'd get scolded again. She kept quiet, still staring at that wonderful body (specifically his arse) as he paced in front of the window. His sillhouette was very defined, that was for sure.

"Have a seat," he said, pointing to a small stool next to a desk. She sat obediently, taking it more as a command than a polite suggestion.

"They started it because there was a man named Tom Marvolo Riddle. He was convinced he was different than all the other half-bloods, and wanted to make the world simple: pure-bloods only, and all under his rule.

"He killed mercilessly, split his soul, until he came upon a prophecy. The prophecy said that a baby born in July would defeat him. He didn't like that one bit.

"So this man, who called himself Voldemort, came after Harry. There were two babies the prophecy could have referred to, and the other was Neville. But Voldemort saw Harry as more of a threat. So he came to get him.

"Harry's parents were both killed trying to save their baby. He was barely a year old.

"But the curse on Harry rebounded. Instead of dying, Harry was left with no more physical trauma than a lightning-bolt-shaped scar on his forehead. The curse hit Voldemort full-force, and everyone assumed he was dead, gone for good. Harry was the only one to ever survive that killing curse, and he was hardly old enough to sit up on his own.

"But Voldemort wasn't entirely dead. Because bits of his soul rested in other objects, he kept reincarnating himself, over and over. Meanwhile, Harry attended wizarding school, where he was often attacked by Voldemort or his underlings, the Death Eaters.

"Dumbledore, the headmaster of the school, was hell-bent on destroying every object that contained that soul. And eventually, he died trying.

"Harry continued what Dumbledore had started. He found all the bits and destroyed them, one-by-one. And eventually, there was only two left. The one in Voldemort's body... and one that was inside Harry.

"He had to kill himself."

Leonora didn't see where this was going. If Harry killed himself, how was he alive?

"So he let Voldemort kill him... but because of a love inside him and his parent's love, and lots of gooey love, he managed to come back to life, free of Voldemort's soul. There was only one peice of soul left, and it was in Voldemort himself.

"There was a big fight... and Harry won, blowing Voldemort into bits. Lots of people died, Leonora. It was a day to remember. But finally we were free of a long-standing paranoia, afraid to trust anyone, and we could trust people and live our lives."

Leonora liked that bit.

"That's what we thought, anyway. Fast forward a few years... and the Death Eaters are back and on a killing spree... and that's why we re-founded the Order. "

Leonora just had to talk now. "So this crazy guy, put his soul in other things, and then they were destroyed, and Harry killed himself, but then he came back to life, and killed Voldemort, and now his servants are back?"

McIntosh glared at her. "You make it sound petty. It's not. Millions have died and hundreds more are dying."

"I do NOT think it's petty!" exclaimed Leonora. Seemed that everyone around here thought that because she was a squib, she was incompetent. "It sounds very important and I can help just as much as anyone else."

McIntosh looked stunned.

"And I don't know WHO you think you are," continued Leonora angrily, "but I'm not gonna let some work-obsessed spy with an overinflated ego and a great arse tell ME what I'M thinking!"

_Oh, no_, she thought_. Did I just say that out loud?_

McIntosh's eyes were wide. He walked to the door, opened it, stepped out, closed it behind him. Suddenly there were a few stomps, a loud swear word, and he came back in.

"Ms. Longbottom," he said, no emotion in his voice. "If I may ask... what did you just say?"


	4. Flashbacks and a whole lotta tension

Leonora and her big fat mouth.

Having just told Matthew McIntosh he had a great behind in the middle of a rage-induced tangent, she was, let's face it, quite ashamed.

"Um..." she stuttered, turning as red as his tie. "I... you... I mean..."

_A small, scruffy fourteen-year-old with big ears and a mop of brown hair was amidst a group of older, more sophisticated children in the Hufflepuff common room. A very heated game of spin-the-bottle was about to take place. A bold, and if the truth was to be told, very obnoxious fifth-year, Jacob, downed an entire bottle of firewhisky in one fell swoop and placed it on the coffee table with a clank. A swarm of fourth, fifth, sixth years crowded around it. _

_The scruffy fourth-year was Matt McIntosh, and he wanted to try._

_When Jacob spun the bottle, it landed on the prettiest girl there that Matt himself liked quite a lot. Elizabeth, a small blond with a dancer's body and an exponentially blushing face. He grinned suggestively, and opened the door to the boys' dormitories for her. Theories flew. What were they doing in there? Seven minutes later, someone knocked on the door, and it flew open. A very satisfied Jacob walked out with the confidence one could only compare to the flushing of Elizabeth's face._

_Next up was Heidi, a tall, broad girl with long dark hair and a certain self-assured beauty. She was quiet and yet always in on secrets, conversations, and anything that was going on. She was less of a prized beauty though, and more of a tried-and-true friend. _

_Her spin landed on Matt._

_He smiled, albeit uncertainly. His friends were egging him on, so he had to do something. He figured a good place to start would be opening the door to the dormitories. She grinned, watching his hands shake as they turned the knob._

_The door shut loudly behind them, and the silence was so thick and heated it was like drowning in a jacuzzi. _

_She took his head in her hands, giggled, and kissed him._

_They continued to kiss, too--neither tried tongues, and there was no arse-grabbing, no dirty, no naughty. Soft kissing for seven minutes with a few breaks for air._

_Seven minutes passed, and there came a knock. _

_Heidi winked, sauntering out easily, her friends all giggling as if they knew what had happened. He followed, slightly less confident, his friends guffawing and slapping him on the back like he'd just won the Quidditch World Cup._

_Not long after, he contracted mono._

Secret Agent Matthew McIntosh smiled.

"What?" asked Leonora, a bit confused at this.

"You... I mean... I just remembered something."

"Excuse me," she said, blushing so much she could feel her cheekbones baking.

She slammed the door behind her without even realizing it.

#

Ginny giggled as Leonora explained, and Hermione was nearly crying tears of laughter. They were sitting cross-legged on Hermione's bed.

"How embarassing," she exclaimed. "I doubt I'll be able to keep from laughing now whenever I see him!"

"How HORRIFYING!" Hermione cried. "I'd be so mortified!"

"I was!" Leonora insisted. She traced the edge of the windowframe's shadow on the bedspread, which was a hideous floral pattern that must have come from a motel that was never inspected.

"He _is_ quite charming," Ginny said with a giggle.

"Hot, you mean!" Hermione corrected, grinning.

"Yeah," admitted Ginny, "basically."

#

Leonora didn't even come down to dinner, claiming stomach cramps. Instead, she stayed in her room, quietly doodling and watching the rain pound her window.

She was so lonely. So, so lonely. A squib in a wizards' world, a klutz in a professionals' world, a loner in a world of friendships and alliances. She had no one to talk to, no matter how nice Ginny and Hermione were. She was so different. How could she ever assimilate?

And then it occured to her.

Maybe, maybe she could just tell Neville... no.

She didn't want to help them.

#

Leonora woke to the light streaming in through her window. Dust floated around in the beam of light, birds chirped happily outisde the window.

_Little twits, what reason do they have to be happy at five 'oclock in the bloody morning? _She thought grumpily. She took the other pillow from her bed and pressed it over her head. For a moment, she was back at her own house, in her own bed.

Then she remembered Neville crashing into her kitchen, the shimmery house, and Harry's somewhat infuriating outburst. She remembered gorgeous Matt McIntosh and her own tangent and her own thoughts... maybe she could back out of this mess.

_I'm not incompetent, _she thought indignantly. _But I don't want to be involved. I'll show him! _She stepped onto the cold floor, glad she was wearing socks, and threw on some clothes before leaving her room, at which point she promptly tripped down nearly half the stairs.

The brunette, Hermione, looked quizically at the squib sprawled on the ground from five feet above.

"Are you okay?"

Leonora scrambled up and attempted to look dignified. "Yes, I'm fine," she said cheerily.

Hermione giggled. "Ron does that all the time. Those are definitely some steep stairs. The Blacks--that is, the family that used to own this place--didn't make it easy to get around. Neville was just sending me to wake you, actually. We have some work to do today. Did you sleep well?"

Leonora thought before answering. "Eh, more or less."

"Good. Beleive me, you've got a lot to do. Ginny and I were cooking some breakfast. Do blueberry pancakes sound good?"

"Mm!" responded Leonora, already a bit more positive.

#

The breakfast table was a little bit tense, to say the least. Harry ate slowly and steadily, hardly looking up from his plate. Ginny did very much the same, although with less anger in her demeanor. Neville was glancing at Leonora every now and then, while Hermione, Ron and Luna tried (and failed) making polite conversation. Leonora could tell that things wouldn't be nearly this tough if she weren't here. She was the only one who didn't know magic or even what was going on.

"Had the strangest dream last night," said Luna happily. "I was floating a few feet above the ground, all through Diagon Alley, and it was raining frogs."

"Wonderful," grunted Harry, rolling his eyes. "That sure gives me hope."

"Erm, exuse me," said Leonora softly. All heads turned to her.

"Um, what exactly are we, er, doing? I mean, why am I here?" she finished.

"Who'd like to explain," sighed Ron. "You can count me out, I'll just confuse her more."

He looked toward Hermione. Four other heads followed.

"Well, um, you see," Hermione started, "The new Minister of Magic is, well, not really the person we'd hoped would step up. Well, he's not Minister _yet, _you see. He's in the running. We're trying to get our friend to campaign. But he won't."

"Politics, then?" asked Leonora, groaning inwardly. She had never been good at this. She was a _scientist, _for heaven's sake.

"More or less," admitted Neville.

"Speaking of whom..." Hermione looked around. "Seems about time to call him, don't you think, Ron?"

"Er, yeah, sure," said Ron, trying to sound as if he knew what was going on.

Hermione stood, took a small pot of green powder, tossed some in the fireplace. When green flames erupted into existence, Leonora jumped back and her eyes went wide. This was new to a physicist. She was further befuddled when Hermione stuck her head into the fireplace and began to have an animated conversation with the brick wall behind it.

Leonora was confused, but she had the sense to know that this was normal magic.

Hermione brought her head out from the fireplace, the green flames dying down. "He will be here any second. Let's clean up the dishes, shall we?"


End file.
